Harry and Hermione in the Tent
by janie777
Summary: This is what could have happened after the dance scene in the tent from the film. I tried to make the characters more like the characters from the books. Mature stuff goes down.


I felt like I had been crying for days. My eyes were swollen almost shut and I had a headache from the pain. Why would he leave us? Me? How could he so blatantly ignore my pleads, my begs, when he knew how much it would hurt me?

I hated apparating away because I knew he wouldn't be able to find us again. I knew this was the end of Ron on our journey. I just couldn't believe he could do that to me. Maybe I didn't know the real Ronald at all. I just wanted him to come back more than I could express, or maybe I didn't want him to come back. Maybe what I desired most was to punch him in the face. I knew that wasn't true.

The tent had become a mostly silent place, a place absent of anything. It made me realize that when Ron was here, it was a place filled with anxiety and bitterness. Harry and I barely interacted at all now that he was gone. I could tell that Harry was really angry with Ron, but was doing his best to spare my feelings. He has always been so understanding and caring. I feel bad that my relationship with Ronald is impeding on my friendship with Harry when he did nothing to deserve this. He truly is an amazing friend. I knew we needed to patch up our friendship and move on with the hunting of horcruxes if we ever wanted to complete our task of defeating Voldemort. I was just going to have to put my feelings aside for the better of the Wizarding World, and Harry doesn't deserve to be so alone and isolated. I began to tell myself that I needed to be happy, that I have a friend that loves me and we have an important job to do. I realized that I needed a bit longer to soak in the agony before returning to normal. Harry was outside guarding the tent. I allowed myself to cry as silently as possible to finally get over the fact that Ronald wasn't coming back, that our relationship was most likely over. I didn't realize that my quiet crying was turning into sobs.

"Hermione" Harry spoke.

**"I'm so sorry, Harry. Is it my turn for guard duty?" I choked, wiping my tears.**

"No, it's just... I know Ron leaving really upset you."

I couldn't believe he was bridging the topic we had so perfectly ignored.

" I realize you two have something going on, but I'm still your friend. You can always talk to me if you need an ear."

I could tell this speech took a lot of effort and that he must really be worried if he's willing to hear about my emotions.

"We can still hunt horcruxes and be happy without that prat around."

**"I know Harry. I just don't understand how he could leave us."**

"I don't know. I suppose he thinks I should be a bit better at finding horcruxes, but I don't see how the hell he expects that I should be better off than you lot, and, it doesn't help that he's used to three square meals a day. You know, I'd rather not think about Ron right now. Let's just think about something else for a bit."

I looked up, confused. Harry walked over to the radio and switched it on. A calm medium tone song was now radiating out into the tent. He came towards me with his hand out. I really had no interest in dancing, but I may as well humour him as he's putting this much effort into making me feel better. He put his arms around my neck, pulled the horcrux over my head, and threw it into the chair I had just vacated. I instantly felt lighter. We danced slowly at first. My body was stiff and achy from sitting in a chair for so long, but it slowly began to loosen. Harry smiled at me, and I reluctantly smiled back. He really is a terrible dancer. We moved back and forth and my whole soul seemed to get warmer. Harry really was so thoughtful and selfless. Yow, he stepped on my foot.

"Sorry," he muttered.

I began laughing and he couldn't help but join in. We both laughed, and as soon as we begun our laughter steadily increased in volume and intensity. It was infectious. My body was quaking. I didn't even remember the last time I had laughed. It was as if all of my unhappiness and pain was being released with my laughter. I was so totally consumed in laughter that I couldn't breathe. Harry grabbed me so I wouldn't fall over, and our eyes met. He looked so happy, full of life, and something happened inside me. I kissed him right on the mouth. I don't even know how it happened, but I couldn't think. The next thing in my consciousness was that he was kissing me back. It was as if this was something that was always meant to happen but never had. It felt like I was at peace with the world, our warm mouths meeting and saying all of the things wordlessly that we could ever need to say. I thought about Ronald, and how we were supposed to be together, but Harry clearly cared a damn sight more about me than Ron ever had, and I pushed him out of my head as Harry pushed me onto one of the beds that sat against the wall.

My sweet tenderness for him was slowly building up into something different. Like a fire had been lit inside me. I could tell he felt it too because his kissing was becoming increasingly vigorous. I began to wonder what was going to happen next, what I wanted to happen. I had never done anything more with Viktor than kiss, seeing as I was merely fourteen during our relationship. The only person I had an interest in after him was Ron, and we had never even reached that point. I was no longer fourteen years old, and I wanted something more. My desires had changed. I heard many stories from the other girls in my year of what happened past kissing, and I used the information I had gleaned from these moments to make my next move. I moved my hand towards his trousers, and past the top of his jeans, finding the object of my search. I began to run my hand along it. He immediately stopped kissing me and looked into my eyes with burning intensity and uncertainness.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes", I replied.

He pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

"No, have you?" I questioned.

"No I haven't either."

It seemed only fitting that we would do this together, both of us for the first time. I dragged my shirt over my head, and we began kissing again. Harry turned me over so I was underneath him. I reached up and unbuttoned his jeans. My hands were shaking. I was excited, but scared. He shimmied them off and then I unbuttoned my own jeans and he pulled them down my body. Now it was really getting serious. We had only our undergarments remaining, and were kissing ferociously. I wanted something so bad and I had a feeling I knew what it was. This new ache inside of me was burning to be fulfilled. He moved his hand down my stomach and onto my underwear. They were soaking wet. He pressed his hand against my body and it felt amazing. I released a gust of air from the bottom of my lungs. He smiled, pleased he did something right. He moved his hands under the garment and pushed it down my legs and off my feet. I reached behind my back, unclasped my bra, and hesitantly threw it off. No one had ever seen these parts of me. Goose bumps rose up all over my body because of the cold air in the tent and the center of my breasts puckered into hard peaks. He began to kiss me and grasped my breast with his warm hand. I reached down and slipped my hand under his boxers and ran it along his most private part. Harry gasped. It was burning hot. I grasped it and began rhythmically moving my hand up and down its length. I wondered how this would ever fit inside me. It scared and excited me. He took his boxers off and tossed them onto the floor.

We were both now as vulnerable and open as one possibly could be. I could feel my own bodily liquid running down my legs. It was time. He was positioned between my thighs and looked into my eyes, asking the question without speaking. I nodded in agreement.

"Be careful," I whispered.

The tip of him touched the opening of me, and slowly began pressing inward. I tried to relax and breathe slowly. The stretching felt so good and warm. I looked at Harry's face and his brow was furrowed with concentration. He met a barrier and looked at me. Again, I nodded, signaling him to move forward. I winced, but the pain lasted only a moment. Soon enough, he was all the way in. Our pelvises were touching and I looked up. We mutually smiled at one another. His face was handsome and calming. He slowly began pulling out. I was breathing hard. It was like each second of movement brought me to a higher level of pleasure and sensitivity. The place where our bodies met was boiling hot. I had never felt something so wonderful.

I could tell that keeping this painstakingly slow pace was probably taking every ounce of concentration and control that Harry possessed. I softly whispered, "faster," and he began to slowly increase his speed until he reached a steady rhythm. Our breathing was rough, like we couldn't get enough oxygen to satisfy our bodies. I was shaking, but no longer from fear. He was moving in and out and it was mounting. I don't know what, but my body was moving toward a point. I knew that I wanted to reach it, but I wasn't sure what it was.

Experimentally, I flexed the muscles around my walls. He drew in a breath of such intensity that I quickly looked up at him, but realized it wasn't from pain. "Hhuhhh..." he breathed.

It felt even tighter and warmer. I needed more. I began meeting his thrusts and urging him to go faster wordlessly. The bed was moving up and down with us. My breasts were moving up and down with the vigor of our movements. A feeling that I didn't understand was beginning to sear through my body. Harry was thrusting deep and fast, and I could sense that he felt the same body-heaving sensation that I was currently experiencing. I couldn't see or hear and my whole being had been compressed into a concentrated area in my stomach. I had no arms or legs or mind. It was quaking up my chest and into my back and taking over my existence. Harry moaned loudly, and kept moving until he could move no longer, collapsing on top of me. We were drawing in breathes like someone who had been drowning for several minutes, like there could never be enough air. It felt like the points where our bodies were touching were about to catch fire, despite the sweat that was dripping off us and causing our bodies to slide against each other.

My breathing began to return to normal and Harry seemed to be beginning to catch his breath as well, rolling off me. He looked over and pecked me on the mouth and we both smiled and began to laugh.

"Oh my god," he pronounced as he put his hand on his forehead.

I ran my pointer finger along his slippery arm, but could still not lift my head.

"Thank you, Harry. I really needed that. This made me realize that you're more to me than just a best friend. You make me feel so wonderful." I spoke barely above a whisper, because I still lacked the energy to speak normally.

"I love you", said Harry. "It's always been you. I don't know why I never realized". He wrapped his arms around me.

"I love you too, Harry".

* * *

><p>Info:<p>

I am not a writer and I don't pretend to be a writer. I wrote this because I wanted to read what could have happened after Harry and Hermione danced and none of the stories I found felt right to me. So I had to write one for myself, which, trust me, I didn't want to do. I would much rather be lazy and find one I like, but it didn't happen. And yes what they talk about afterwards is kind of weird but I tried so hard to think of what they would say and I couldn't figure it out. Harry never talks and I have no idea what Hermione would say after something like this. I tried not to make it soppy but I kind of failed. The one reviewer is probably right, she shouldn't say "I really needed that". It didn't come off as slutty in my mind but now it sounds that way, especially for a virgin. In my mind she was referring more to him trying to make her feel better in general than just to the intercourse. I didn't publish this to reveal my secret fiction writing desires, because I have none. I just published it because I thought other people might want to read what I think could have happened and maybe mine is closer to what they think. It could be that the other ones I didn't like are closer to what they think. It just seems selfish to keep it to myself because I've been contributing nothing and benefiting from everyone else's stories all of these years.


End file.
